


Your Heart's Got Teeth

by Lightning_Strikes_Twice



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon Compliant, Don't yell at me, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Smut, TW: Blood, enjoy the filth, it's bloody, post KoA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23453503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning_Strikes_Twice/pseuds/Lightning_Strikes_Twice
Summary: Listen. We know what human blood does to Ironteeth witches. Manon returns from a hunt blood-drunk and needs to *ahem* blow off some steam. Luckily, Dorian's waiting for her. Basically: shameless, self-indulgent, blood-soaked porn.Title: "Teeth" by 5SOS
Relationships: Manon Blackbeak/Dorian Havilliard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 113





	Your Heart's Got Teeth

Manon breezed through the door to her chambers, discarding her blood-soaked cloak on the floor as she went. Dawn was still an hour off and her muscles ached in protest as she made her way across the room towards the bathing chamber, but she didn’t bother stifling the contented sigh that left her lips. She raked her fingers through her hair, leaving smears of crimson along the white as she did. Blood still dripped down her chin from her iron teeth, which she hadn’t bothered retracting once she’d returned to the castle. As for the rest of her hunting party, they’d continue their revel until the sun broke over the mountains on the horizon. She could hear the music and the shrieks from her witches, the screams from the prey that hadn’t been lucky enough to die in the hunt. Now they wished they had. 

It had been decades since she’d hunted with a coven. Decades since the Thirteen flew as one, terrorizing villages, luring away men too blinded by their beauty to suspect their nature, rutting til dawn and gorging themselves on blood until their eyes glazed and they giggled at their own drunkeness. They had barely been older than witchlings. Set loose to hone their skills as hunters and weapons. It had been decades, and Manon had all but forgotten how much she missed the thrill of a hunt with witches beside her. So many years spent alone, hunting Crochans instead of mortals. She’d needed to be reminded of how much she’d loved it, and with Samhain approaching, Ironteeth and Crochan alike had been all too happy to oblige their Queen in a hunt to kick off the festival. 

The dark room spun slightly, and Manon smiled at the lightness in her head as she reached the bathing room door. That is, until a soft chuckle behind her had her whirling and ready to strike. Judging by the sound of it, someone was sitting on her bed. Iron teeth and nails still bared, mind clouded with blood, it wasn’t until an invisible hand caught her wrist as she lunged to strike that Manon realized who sat in her bed. The light from the full moon spilling in through the open balcony doors illuminated the pair of sapphire eyes that gazed up at her from where he sat, still chuckling at her sound of surprise. 

“Hello, witchling. You don’t usually startle so easily.”

“You should know better than to startle a witch who has spent the night hunting, princeling. I could have torn out your throat before I knew who you were.” Manon tried not to slur her words, annoyance hovering just beyond the comfortable haze in her mind. 

Dorian peered up into Manon’s face. Now that she was up close, he could see her clearly, could register exactly why she hadn’t noticed him the second she entered the room. His eyes widened slightly as they took in the blood coating her lips and chin, staining her clothes and boots, starting to dry on her hands and forearms. His eyes met hers, noting the blown pupils and the glaze. 

“My gods, witchling. Are you drunk?” He couldn’t hide the smirk that crept onto his lips as he tugged her closer by the wrist still held firm in the grasp of his invisible hand. She stumbled a bit as he pulled her toward him, smoothly recovering by perching in his lap, straddling his hips. She draped her arms around this neck, smearing blood along his shoulders and through his curls as she stroked her fingers through his hair. He shivered at the feel of those still-exposed iron claws so close to his neck. She leaned in, brushing her nose along his jaw, her iron teeth ghosting against his neck, right along the vein carrying his heartbeat, which was rapidly increasing. Breathing in deeply, she smiled against him and… giggled. Gods above. She actually giggled.

“I have never smelled fear on you before, princeling. All it takes is a little blood to set your heart racing, hm? Afraid I will rip you open and drink you as well?”

“You really are drunk if you think you scare me like this, darling. Tell me, what do witches do on their hunts? And do you intend to make me scream like those poor souls you dragged back here to play with?” Flying in as a raven was easy, he’d been to the Wastes enough times to know which balcony belonged to the Queen, and in which room he should wait to surprise her. Though he had been more than a little surprised to overhear that the Queen herself had accompanied several of her covens on their hunt that night. He’d been told stories of witch hunts as a child, but hadn’t truly believed the horrors until he heard the screams of the prisoners brought back to the castle, until he’d seen his witch stumble through her door nearly out of her mind with blood and thrill. 

“Would you like me to make you scream like them? I could think of lots of ways to play with you,” Manon purred, still at his neck as though she hadn’t quite decided whether to rip him open and drink or use him in other ways. Dorian shivered again. He knew exactly how witches used their prey before tearing into them. Manon, no doubt scenting his hesitation pulled back and locked her eyes with his. The glaze was still there, but her effort to look serious was clear. “You should not be here, Dorian. You are not equipped to deal with me like this. I could hurt you.” 

Dorian’s smirk returned at those words. “Is that a challenge?”

Manon shook her head, muscles tensing, using all of her remaining self-control to hold herself back from pinning him to the mattress beneath her and sinking her teeth into his flesh. “No,” she ground out. “Not a challenge. You have never been with a witch during a blood lust. You do not know the risks.”

“Then why don’t you show me?” He breathed, pulling her chin down and slotting his lips over hers. A voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to run the moment he tasted the blood coating her lips. He felt her sharp intake of breath, felt her legs tighten around him, locking him in. She ground her hips into his lap, fingers tugging at his hair. 

Manon groaned as she forced herself to pull back, head spinning. “I need to hear you say it, princeling. Once we start I will not be able to stop. I promise to try not to hurt you too badly, but I need you to say you understand and you risk this willingly. Foolish as you may be.”

Dorian chuckled, cupping her face and pulling her back down into a kiss as he spoke, “Yes, Manon. I understand. Show me how you make men scream.”

The growl she released at his words sent his head spinning. She lunged forward, pinning him on his back beneath her, never taking her lips from his. Her claws shredded through the front of his shirt, leaving it in ribbons around him as she worked her lips down his jaw and along his neck. Her teeth grazed along his skin, leaving thin red lines in their wake. He gasped at the sting of her tongue along the cuts. 

She pulled back, gazing down at him, fresh blood,  _ his blood _ , on her lips and his eyes widened at the feral grin that grew across her face. Before his eyes she became every bit of her demon heritage, the very monster that haunted mortal children’s stories. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he breathed, as he met her golden eyes, no longer glazed but burning with such intensity he finally felt a hint of fear. He ran his hands along her thighs, up to grasp her hips as she rocked against him.

She bent again, licking the blood pooled at his collar bones and whispered against his ear, “Do not try to restrain me this time, princeling. It will not end well.”

He simply nodded as she straightened back up, removing her shirt and flinging it across the room. Her iron claws made quick work of his belt and pants, then her own, leaving them both bare. 

The moonlight glinted on her blood-stained skin, as she again ran her bloodied hands through her hair, then down her own body, leaving streaks of crimson along her chest and stomach, down her thighs. Her smile grew as she ground her hips, the slickness from between her thighs coating the length of him, making him groan, ignoring the most basic of instincts pleading with him to run. 

She dipped her head to kiss along his stomach, up his chest, leaving bloodstains on his skin. When she again lay flush against him she licked along the pulsing vein in his neck and crooned “Shall I show you how witches ride their prey?”

He turned his head, catching her lips with his own in answer. He kissed her deeply. Despite the blood, despite the iron teeth, despite the damned voice in the back of his head that hadn’t stopped screaming at him to run since her lips first met his. She allowed him to slide his tongue against hers, tasting his own blood there, along with whomever she’d hunted and drank from earlier. He grew harder between them as she swirled her hips against him, little moans coming from her throat. 

All at once she drew herself back, dragging her nails along his chest as she sat up. His hiss of pain turned to a choked moan as she pushed herself up and then sank down, taking him all in in one swift movement. She circled her hips where they met his, then steadied her hands on his chest and, with a wicked grin down at him, began working herself up and down on his length at a frightening pace. 

“ _ Gods- fuck! _ ” Dorian cursed and moaned, gripping her hips as hard as he dared and thrusting up into her. Manon only threw her head back, eyes wild and mouth open as a moan ripped through her. She leaned back, gripping his thighs and arching her back as he hit deliciously deep inside of her. 

Dorian marveled at the witch atop him, practically glowing in the light of the full moon, a brutal and breathtaking creature. She worked herself up and down, each snap of his hips up into her bringing a beautiful moan from her blood-stained lips. Her nails dug deep enough to make him wince, but she was too far gone to notice. Instead, she only ground down harder, eyes beginning to flutter closed as she gave herself over to the pure instincts now guiding her action as her pleasure built. 

The scent of the fresh blood leaking from the wounds across his chest and thighs drove her wild. Opening her eyes, she brought a hand to her lips and ran her tongue along her fingers, reveling in the dizzying taste of him. She held Dorian’s gaze as she worked her tongue along her own fingers in time with the bounce of her hips. 

“You taste divine, princeling.” There was nothing human in the voice that spoke to him. Even as her breath came in pants and moans slipped from her lips between words. No, Dorian realized, there was nothing human in this creature on top of him, tasting his blood and drinking in every conflicting emotion that rolled off of him. Nothing human at all in the way she bent, changing the angle of him inside her, and moaned as she sank her teeth into the base of his neck. Even he couldn’t tell if his scream was from pleasure or pain, but it was a scream nonetheless. That seemed to please her as she sat up, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing blood from cheek to cheek and leering down at him. Bleeding freely, and eyes starting to roll back at her pace, Dorian decided he’d never loved her more. 

He dared to slide a hand from her hip to stroke her clit as she rode him, earning him a choked-off cry of “ _ Goddess, yes! _ ” Her thighs began to shake around him, and her toes curled as she hurtled for the edge, digging her nails in deeper and dragging him with her. Every meeting of their hips had her moans edging just a bit higher in pitch, and he stroked her harder just as she began to lose control. Her blazing golden eyes flew open as she screamed her climax to the moon, tightening around him. A few more thrusts into her and he followed her over the edge. Release tore through her, lightning in veins and stars in her vision. She was distantly aware of Dorian moaning her name and filling her as he came, distantly aware of her ragged breathing and twitching thighs. Through her clouded mind, she could only focus on the waves of pleasure as they coursed through her body. 

She sighed as she rolled off of him, orgasm mixing with blood-haze leaving her loose and sated, still grinning, even as her breathing slowed. She retracted her teeth and nails, turning on her side to look at Dorian, absently trailing her fingers along the cuts at his neck, on his chest. Dorian blinked at the ceiling, seeming to concentrate on his breathing, chest heaving, an odd expression on his face. 

Propping herself up on her elbow, Manon, stared down at him. “You alright, princeling?”

Sapphire gaze met hazy gold, and Dorian’s lips turned up in a soft smile. “I love you,” he murmured, tucking a lock of her blood-streaked hair behind her ear. 

Manon blinked, then grinned, then laughed. “That is not usually the response I get from those I bleed and fuck.” Dorian snorted. “Then again, they are not usually capable of speaking afterwards. Hard to speak with no throat, is it not?” Manon traced her fingers along Dorian’s neck, along the pulse just underneath his skin. “But I like hearing you say it.”

He opened his arms and she scooted closer against him, tucking her head under his chin and breathing him in. No fear anymore. No, of all the scents that still hung thick in the room: blood, desire, pain, release; fear was not one of them. Manon decided she liked the scent of blood and sex better than fear anyway. At least from him. She tilted her head up to press a light kiss to his jawline. Her mind had gone even hazier than before, the combination of Dorian’s blood and the release she’d denied herself on the hunt making her slip further into a state of lazy content. She’d never shared this state with anyone, never before had someone held her through the after effects of a hunt. She sighed and nuzzled closer to Dorian.

He chuckled. “I like you like this, witchling.” He kissed her forehead. “Of course, I like the bloodstained goddess from a few minutes ago as well.” He could have sworn she giggled softly. “Speaking of which, as much as I enjoy the sight of you, er, us, I guess, covered in blood, we  _ might _ want to wash this off before sleeping?” Fucking covered in blood was one thing, he didn’t think he could quite stomach the thought of sleeping in a bed soaked in both his own blood and the blood of others he didn’t know. 

Manon murmured something that sounded a lot like “but it smells so nice,” before pushing herself up again to meet his eyes. “Very well, princeling. Join me for a bath?” He sat up to press a kiss to her lips, smiling against her. 

“Always, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! I'm lightning-strikes-twice on Tumblr, come say hi!


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